


take on me (take me on)

by Catja



Series: Kink Meme [3]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, But don't say I didn't warn you, F/M, Kink Meme, Non-Consensual Touching, Smut, Spanking, Teacher-Student Relationship, because it's a kink meme fic, but she likes it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-29
Updated: 2017-04-29
Packaged: 2018-10-25 11:20:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,985
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10763208
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Catja/pseuds/Catja
Summary: Prompt: Clarke gets sent to a boarding school where they use corporal punishment. Bellamy is her teacher/principal.





	take on me (take me on)

"Miss Griffin is here to see you, sir."

Bellamy glances up from the object he's holding to see his secretary standing in his office doorway. He sets it down, out of sight, then stands. "Thank you, Ms. Bragg, send her in."

The pomp and circumstance at Arkadia Academy is, frankly, ridiculous, but Bellamy is well aware that he wouldn't be receiving this kind of paycheck from a public high school, or even a normal private school, let alone the Title I schools he'd dreamed of working in. Octavia's tuition and his mother's addictions don't pay for themselves. Bellamy would far rather work as a Residence Director, on top of his history classes, for free room and board than drive a bus for an extra couple hours' pay a day. Even if the students are worse here than his residents from his year as a university RA. Spoiled, arrogant brats.

The secretary is definitely overkill, but at least she's hot, and a far less inappropriate subject for his fantasies than the students: pretty polished girls and boys who need to be broken a little before they try to take over the world.

Speaking of-

"You wanted to see me, Mr. Blake?"

Clarke Griffin, queen of Phoenix Hall, _his_ hall, junior class president, and daughter of _two_ school board members, stands in the doorway.

"Yes, come in. Sit down," Bellamy says, nodding toward the empty chair in front of his oversized mahogany desk. "Thank you for being prompt."

"Of course." Clarke sits, setting her unmarred leather satchel by her feet and smoothing her skirt neatly over her thighs, looking up at him expectantly.

Those fucking uniforms. It'd be easier to deal with the teenaged girls if they weren't wearing those little plaid skirts, hiked up as high as they could get away with, showing off their legs in their over-the-knee socks. It hardly even mattered that their shirts came up to their throats, with vests or jackets over that. Especially on Clarke Griffin: the blouse and jacket couldn't hide her truly magnificent rack, and the tie just made him want to grab on and push her around.

Of course, if his plan works out, she won't be wearing the uniform for much longer. Bellamy's been wanting to take Arkadia's Princess down a peg or two, and _finally_ he's gotten the chance.

"Miss Griffin," Bellamy says, still standing behind his desk, towering over the seventeen year old. "As you may have heard, there were surprise inspections of the dormitories this morning."

She looks up at him, eyes steady, not worried yet. "Yes, I heard about that."

"A contraband object was found in your room, your _single_ room."

"I don't have any cont-"

Clarke freezes when Bellamy lifts up the object he'd been given a few hours earlier. It's a small, violently pink vibrator, just about the size of Bellamy's smallest finger.

"Are you sure you don't, Miss Griffin?"

"I can explain."

"Please do."

Her eyes scan the room while she frantically tries to think of any excuse, anything at all. "It isn't mine."

"You don't share a room."

Clarke's gone pink, with embarrassment or anger, from high in her cheeks down her throat. Bellamy's looking forward to seeing how low that blush goes. "No, I know, I bought it for a friend, she asked me to-."

"Try again, Miss Griffin." Bellamy lifts the vibrator to his nose and sniffs dramatically. "You neglected to clean it, whenever you used it last. I can smell your cunt on it."

Clarke slumps in her seat, defeated. "Ugh, fine. What's my punishment? Early curfew, loss of town privileges?"

"No." Bellamy circles around his desk, leaning against it next to Clarke. "I had something different in mind."

"Like what, Mr. Blake?" Clarke asks.

Bellamy crosses his arms and stares down at her. Ordinarily, he knows, he doesn't have much of a height advantage over her. It's why he spends so much time at the gym- so many of his students are taller than him, he needs at least more _bulk_ than they have.

"I'm going to give you a choice, Miss Griffin-"

"How kind," she says, dry.

Bellamy ignores her. "You may face the school board, and may I remind you, your parents would not be allowed to sit on your hearing board due to conflicts of interest. _That_ may lead to suspension or even expulsion, depending, I imagine, on how much they like your parents. At the very least, it will put a very dark mark on your record, and it will certainly make it more difficult for you to get recommendation letters."

"And Mrs. Caldwell and Ms. Sydney have been trying to get Mom off the board for years and this will give them an excuse, and I won't be able to be senior class president, or even junior class president, probably, and I'll lose my single room, and be blacklisted from every extra-curricular. Yeah, I get it. Fine. What's the other option?"

"Somehow," Bellamy says, slow, savoring each word, "permission to corporally punish morally corrupt students is still granted by the school charter."

Clarke's jaw drops. " _Corporally punish_..."

Bellamy gives her a moment to consider it. It's almost like watching the stages of grief play out over her face, from utter shock, to consideration and preparation for an argument, then grim acceptance.

"You want to spank me?" Clarke asks finally, looking steadily up at him.

Bellamy thinks _fuck yes I do_ , but manages to say, "I believe you would benefit from such a punishment," instead. Both of them are fully aware that Bellamy didn't answer her question. "I take it you've made your choice."

Clarke shrugs. "Like I really have a choice," she says, bitter. She stands. "How to you want me?"

Bellamy chokes back a groan, struck by the image of her on her knees, mouth open for him, then bouncing in his lap, tits in his face, then bent over his desk, presenting her pretty cunt to him.

He can't say that, of course, so instead he steps away from his desk, nodding toward the bare stretch of table, and reaches for the paddle, already sitting on the desk. It's one of the many absolutely fucked up things about this school: he has an official, branded school _paddle_ , given to him his first day on the job by Headmaster Kane.

Clarke's eyes widen when she sees the paddle. "You can't be serious," she says.

"Five with this," Bellamy says, rapping his knuckles against the solid maple, "or fifteen with my hand."

"Your hand, then," Clarke says.

Bellamy can't help a half-smile; Clarke's making more predictable decisions than he'd expected. "Very well," he says. "Take off your jacket. Hands on the desk, feet apart, and count aloud, please."

Clarke complies.

After taking a few seconds to savor the view, Bellamy smacks her hard across her ass.

Clarke squeals, covering her ass and jumping up. "That fucking hurt," she says, glaring at him.

"Obviously." Bellamy reaches out for her tie, loosening it gently. "Since you can't be trusted to keep your hands away..." he says, removing it entirely. "Turn around, please, Miss Griffin."

She scoffs, crossing her arms and leaning away from him.

"Unless you'd prefer I report your moral corruption to the school board."

"No," she replies sullenly, turning her back to him.

Bellamy pulls her wrists behind her back and ties them snugly together, then pushes her back into position. She's forced lower this time; without her hands for support, her torso is flat on his desk. She's not quite tall enough for it to be comfortable, has to rise up onto her toes. It does nice things for her legs, Bellamy has to admit. He considers her for a moment, then flips her skirt up over her waist. Clarke is hardly in a position to argue.

She is _delicious_ , her round ass barely covered by a scrap of pale blue lace. It would almost be virginal, if not for the wet spot between her legs. She's breathing quite heavily; it's a shame Bellamy can't see her breasts. Ah, well. Later.

"Don't forget to count," Bellamy says.

_Smack!_

"Two."

Bellamy _tsks_. "No, Miss Griffin." Her pale skin is already reddening from his hand, just as he'd hoped. She's going to look so damn beautiful by the time he's done.

Clarke gulps. "One?"

"Very good."

Two through eight come in quick succession, alternating sides. Clarke gasps out each number, her voice getting weaker with every stroke.

Bellamy pauses, halfway through, to admire the sight. She's turned away from him, trying to maintain some sort of dignity, but that hardly matters. Her legs are straining to keep her balanced on the desk, hands clenched at the small of her back, her blue and black striped tie binding them together, her panties even wetter now than before he started.

He's surprised she's taking her punishment so well. In class, she's constantly refusing to back down, even against him. Bellamy had expected that she'd be the same now, but perhaps he should have realized Clarke would be like this, taking what she deserved, what he wanted to give her.

"Such a good girl," he murmurs before spanking her again.

Clarke whimpers, but neglects to continue counting.

Bellamy even gives her a moment before the next swat, to see if she's just late.

"I believe I told you to count, Miss Griffin," Bellamy says, voice soft. "You have failed to do so, twice now. Either I start over again-"

"No, please, Mr. Blake."

"Or I remove these, and continue from where you stopped counting." Bellamy runs his finger under the edge of her panties. Her skin is so smooth.

Clarke sniffs. "That one, please."

Bellamy smiles. "Good girl." It's completely unnecessary, but he uses both hands: grips her hips for just a moment, just so he'll have the memory for later, then slides her panties slowly down her legs, feeling every inch of smooth, pale skin. He lifts each foot carefully, setting them down a little further apart, spreading her legs just a little.

Clarke's panties are absolutely _drenched_. She smells so sweet.

Bellamy drops them next to her face. He's not going to give them back, of course, but he wants her to know that _he_ knows how much she's enjoying her punishment.

"Nine."

Bellamy leaves his hand on her ass, his fingertips stretching toward her cunt. They come away wet.

"Ten- eleven- twelve-"

Bellamy's beginning to wish he'd said twenty.

Without any warning, Bellamy thrusts two fingers into her pussy. She accepts him easily. "Well, isn't this interesting," Bellamy says, fucking them in and out, nice and slow. She's tight, but so wet it hardly matters. He twists his fingers, searching for her g-spot.

Clarke lets out a whine when he finds it. "Please, Mr. Blake- thirteen!"

"Please, what?"

"Please don't stop," she begs, shifting her weight slightly. Bellamy guesses she's trying to get to her clit. He obliges, rubbing tight circles around her clit, slipping his thumb into her instead. It's not going to be enough, inside her, but Bellamy wants to feel her clenching around _something_.

It's not long before Clarke's gasping, cunt squeezing around him. Bellamy delivers the last two swats as she comes, making her arch off the desk, keening. He keeps his hand on her as she comes, covering her whole cunt, feeling her arousal drip from his fingers.

"Thank you, Mr. Blake," Clarke says, voice shaky.

Bellamy admires his handiwork. Her ass is gloriously red. She'll be feeling it for a while.

"I hope you've learned your lesson, Miss Griffin," he says as he unties her wrists.

She tidies herself quickly, eyeing her panties on the desk but not bothering to ask for them back. "Mr Blake? What if I want my toy back?"

Bellamy lets a slow smile spread across his face. "Come see me after classes, Miss Griffin, and we can discuss it."


End file.
